


Sunday Candy

by cheeky_geek_m0nkey



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeky_geek_m0nkey/pseuds/cheeky_geek_m0nkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Beca announced hesitantly between commercial breaks of the dance competition Chloe forced her to watch that she had to leave for a week to scout out new talent for the studio, Chloe patched a fake smile of acceptance on her face, intertwining her fingers with Beca and telling her in an easy breath to “go do what you need to do. I’ll be here waiting, you know.” But, she knew it was going to be more than a challenge to get by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Candy

Prior to them sealing this whole relationship thing with a kiss and a very nice exploration of the Copenhagen hotel room, Beca and Chloe hardly spent a night apart. Even in her first senior year, locked out by sarcastic eye-rolls and ear spikes, Chloe weaseled her way into Beca’s twin bed with guises of crazy-Bellas-caption-roommate complaints, sneaking sleepovers into their nightly routine beneath textbooks and late night choreography sessions. Chloe allowed herself to become dependent on those nights, learning to despise Christmas breaks and the weeks-long separation it caused (which, really, was impressive because Chloe lived for Christmas…she practically shat Christmas spirit, as Beca once so kindly put it). 

And so, when Beca announced hesitantly between commercial breaks of the dance competition Chloe forced her to watch that she had to leave for a week to scout out new talent for the studio, Chloe patched a fake smile of acceptance on her face, intertwining her fingers with Beca and telling her in an easy breath to “go do what you need to do. I’ll be here waiting, you know.” But, she knew it was going to be more than a challenge to get by. 

A week without Beca, whistling mixes at ungodly hours of the morning and clinging with an iron grip when Chloe slipped away to go on a sunrise run before school, meant a week of absolute insomnia. Even the first day, before Beca even landed, Chloe snapped at a student who was trying to text in class. She wasn’t a woman who ever had issues with patience, or exhaustion, or irritation, but she also wasn’t a woman who ever had to handle sleeping alone, so she didn’t even question the mood shift. On top of it all, she was pretty sure she was coming down with something. 

–

Beca, alternatively, learned from a very young age the art of being alone. Cuddling up to headphones and the light of a computer screen (or a good book, when she was younger) taught Beca how to thrive off of the absence of others and instinctively flinch at physical touch. 

Which was why, at five in the morning on the second day of her trip, she resisted the urge to call the front desk for an extra pillow to nuzzle into. She skipped brushing her teeth that morning, unable to find the motivation without the sound of Chloe’s hairdryer in the background. When she trailed aimlessly through the city, trying to find the coffeeshop she agreed to meet her manager at, her hand was cold at the tips - tingly and numb - and even in the safe beat of her headphones she found herself missing Chloe’s endless rambling. 

She skyped Chloe that night, and listened to the other girl talk about her students, even staying in the call as the redhead squealed over who got eliminated on the talent show she was watching. Pressing the red button to hang up the call was nearly impossible, and the program actually shut her out thirty minutes after Chloe had fallen asleep in front of her webcam. 

Beca didn’t realize when, exactly, she lost the ability to be alone. Somewhere between when Chloe’s stuffed teddy bear started joining them in her dorm and the point at which Beca learned Chloe’s coffee order. She was scared of the way she relied so heavily on the other girl’s presence - because, as history proved, people were fundamentally unreliable and impermanent. But, despite these rationalizations, the tickle in the back of her neck whenever saw Chloe’s face lit up as the background of her phone was worth the risk. 

–

So, even though she hated to admit these things, she texted Chloe at 3:27am on the third night, because she knew how Chloe would beam at her meek and almost fearlessly vulnerable I miss you. 

And she was right, because when Chloe read the screen, she grinned so hard she had to press her face into the pillow next to her. The sentiment wasn’t surprising, but Beca was always the quiet reciprocat-er to Chloe’s emotional confessions - she was nearly never the initiator, covering even heartfelt “I love you”s in emojis or eye-rolls to protect herself. 

Miss you too. Then, You need sleep 

Cant 

Yunno, the great thing abt dreams is that i can be in them

Yeah?

Mmhmmm

Dont make this kinky, beale. my heart cant handle it

Hey, what my dream-self does or does not do is not my fault. you’re in control of her. so if it gets kinky, you’re the one to blame. 

Touche  
You need sleep too, chlo

Right. 

Four more days, becs

Five more minutes

?

Until dream-you! 

You’re a dork

A sleepy dork. G’night. Love you. 

Love you too. 

–

Sunday was painfully far away. Beca knew this because she had started to steel herself away when Chloe sent her snapchats, the five seconds of screen-time making her heart beat impossibly fast. She assumed Chloe could tell the effect the innocent pictures had on her, because on the night she decided to go out ( “You’re moping and it’s pathetic, Chloe Beale,” Aubrey snapped at her in the teacher’s lounge, forcing her to agree to an aca-awesome night of martinis and karaoke), she sent Beca a picture of her in the tightest light blue dress Beca had ever seen, and the DJ had to stop herself to humming out-loud into her mic when she opened the snap. 

“You’re fucking whipped,” her manager mumbled into his drink, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.

“Fuck you,” she shot back, incapable of wiping the proud grin off her face before she moved to take a picture of the black ceiling and captioning it You’re killin’ me, Beale. 

She didn’t argue against his claim - an activity she typically enjoyed whether she felt strongly about the issue or not - because after five months of dating, her hands were constantly shaking like they used to before Chloe was around to hold them. 

Three more days, Chloe sent back, aiming a kiss at the camera with a wink and a blurry Aubrey at the bar in the background throwing a glare at the camera. 

–

“Where are you at again?” Chloe said into the phone, stifling a yawn as she closed her computer and put it gingerly on the nightstand. The thumping bass on Beca’s end of the conversation blasted through the silence of her bedroom, and Chloe struggled to hear the other girl’s voice. 

“Some crap-shoot bar in midtown. The club closed a half hour ago, but there was this dude that, like, really knew his shit. Tori convinced him to get drinks, we’re hoping we get him plastered enough to talk business.” 

“Shit, that’s awesome. Aca-awesome,” she smiled at the groan she heard at the other end. “Am I holding you up?”

“No!” Beca quipped quickly, before Chloe could even finish her sentence. She bit her thumbnail to keep from smiling even more. “I mean, you’ve got to sleep soon and…I’ve…I’ve kinda missed your voice, Chlo.” 

“Beca Mitchell, you flatter me so,” Chloe said with a southern accent and a giggle. Against the music pounding in the background, Chloe thought she could hear Beca smile. She pictured her, leaning against the brick wall at the corner of some new-age micro-brew bar, donning her uniform of jeans and a well-fitting vest, accompanied by meticulously applied eye-liner. “You look really nice tonight, Becs.” 

It was loud on the other end, but she still heard the other girl breathe into the phone. “Shut up, you can’t see me.”

“Yeah, but I know you do. You always do.” There was a pause then, and Chloe fiddled with the comforter. “You know what else I know? I know that you’re smiling right now, and that you’re rolling your eyes because you don’t want to admit that I just got your lady engine revving.” 

“Chloeee,” Beca groaned, wincing at the utter nonsense she’d decided to tie herself to. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“Hmmm,” she hummed, “I’m pretty confident about all of this. You should go. Use your feminine wiles but don’t give them anything - you’ve got a hot girlfriend waiting back home.”

“You make a good argument. I think my fidelity is safe. Try to get some sleep tonight, okay?” She could hear the music getting louder as Beca moved more into the crowd. 

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Hey, Beca?” 

“Hmm?”

“Two more nights.” 

–

Chloe planned to have a late dinner, popping her grandmother’s lasagna in the over around eight o’clock so that it would be ready just a few minutes after Beca’s plane landed. When she woke up, the only thing that tugged her out of bed was the promise of Beca’s face, and nearly every one of her chores were geared towards making that face - which would be, she assumed, tired and cranky - break into a devilishly large grin. When she set the oven timer, however, her phone vibrated. 

Connecting flight delayed. I’ll keep you updated.

Damn. Okay. Be safe. 

She meant it, really, that “okay”. Naturally, the thought of a few more hours stuck a nervous twinge in Chloe’s gut, but the week had been impossibly long, and a few more hours was more than manageable. She could distract herself with reality shows and social media, and then Beca would be home to distract her in a completely different way until they were forced to leave each other for work in the morning. 

She might even call in sick. 

Bree would gladly substitute for her…

In the mean time, it was cold, and her dress was too tight to breathe, so she threw on a pair of sweatpants and settled into the couch. 

A few more hours was more than manageable, she thought, giving into the weight of her heavy-lidded eyes. 

And after a week of sleepless nights, the nap she indulged in went so deep that she didn’t hear the front door open or the eager tug of Beca’s suitcase over the tiled floor. 

Which, if Beca was being honest, she was grateful for. The few moments between entering their apartment and spotting a sleeping Chloe on the couch allowed Beca precious time to observe the other woman, the smooth peacefulness of her face and the way her mouth fell open slightly - or how her cheeks were pink under the unnecessary heat of the blanket. She assumed, naively, that hours and hours of memorizing that face would lessen the twist in her stomach at the sight of Chloe’s face, but she was wrong. Very wrong. She started to reach out, because she was exhausted and jet-lagged and couldn’t fully believe that Chloe was really there in that instant, her mint and citrus scent invading Beca’s senses. 

So Chloe woke up to a hand lightly tracing her collarbone, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Beca, smiling her widest smile - the smile reserved for a Ms. Chloe Beale - and she smelled like airplane, yes, but she also smelled like warm leather and coconut shampoo, and Chloe missed her so much more, then, somehow. She hummed, biting down her sleepy grin. 

“I love you,” Beca murmured, her voice almost a whisper, and Chloe felt her breath cover her skin in goosebumps. The sentence was so rare from Beca’s mouth and it tasted better than any dinner Chloe could’ve made. It felt warm, it smelled right, it looked bright and soft and Chloe loved every single aspect of the way Beca said it - in a music all their own. She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Beca’s cheek. Slowly, she moved to the other side of Beca’s face, their noses touching before she pressed a kiss to her other cheek, then down her jaw, avoiding the other girl’s lips. Beca breathed out, and couldn’t stop herself. 

“You gotta move slowly,” she started to sing, her voice a little raspy from a week of late club nights, but it added to the desperation, and it would’ve been weird, this whole singing while she’s making out with her girlfriend thing, except it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

It was good. It was really good. 

“Takin’ in my body like it’s holy,” Chloe pulled away from Beca’s neck to catch her breathe, squeaking a little as she did so, because this was too much, and she’d just realized she was wearing sweatpants and hadn’t showered. But the separation didn’t help her condition, because it allowed Beca the leeway to shift their position, moving to Chloe’s lap and running a hand through her hair. “Cuz I’ve been waiting for you for the whole week,” she sang, trailing her hands down to Chloe’s shoulders, where they danced lightly. “I’ve been waiting for you…” Her voice was quieter, pressed into Chloe’s temples, and the redhead shivered. “You’re my Sunday candy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I've got LOADS more fic on my tumblr (@flabbergasties.tumblr.com). Slowly I'm moving that shit on here, but check it out for more.


End file.
